In the End, All the Sinners Have to Pay
by giaaeron
Summary: When the people rise up against Anne's execution, it take the lives of the royal family to places no one ever expected.... Based on the "Marquess of Pembroke" challenge by CordeliaHalliwell, from ReganX's Tudor Challenge Forum.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: The Marquess of Pembroke

The door to her Tower apartments opened with a slow creak. Anne's eyes flew open, her poor imitation of sleep abandoned as she sat up in bed, her long dark hair streaming around her.

"Is it time already?" she croaked, voice hoarse from a long night of crying.

"No," her niece Catherine replied in a low voice. "I have heard some startling news from Mr. Kingston."

The sudden flush of color that has infused her cheeks at the thought of her execution disappeared, leaving Anne pale once more. "What is it?"

"The people are amassing outside of the Tower to protest your execution."

"You jest at a poorly chosen time, dear niece. The people hate me."

Catherine strode forward and took Anne's thin shoulder in her hand, pulling her from the bed and over towards the window. "I didn't believe him, either, but there they are, all the same."

Pushing aside the tapestry, Anne gawked at the mass of torch bearing Londoners. "Jesu preserve us," she whispered in awe. "Why now?"

"The King has released to the public the details of your trial and the annulment."

"THAT is what swayed them?" she asked incredulously.

"Even the most uneducated Londoner knows that you cannot commit adultery if you were never married, my Lady."

Anne's eyes widened as she began to laugh and cry at the same time. "Too late! Too late to save George, or Harry, or Frankie, or Will... or even Smeaton. Perhaps too late to save me, as well, but how cruel to show me a glimmer of hope at a time when I can hardly expect it."

Catherine said nothing as Anne continued.

"Henry cannot stand to be unpopular. Perhaps...perhaps he will reconsider."

Henry, despite the late hour, was pacing in his room, railing at Cromwell.

"Don't these people understand that it is the plotting of taking my LIFE that is treason! It is not just the cuckoldry, though by God's blood that should be reason enough!"

Cromwell knew quite well that this moment could define the rest of his life. He advanced carefully. "Your Majesty, you are, as always, correct. Perhaps..."

Henry whirled to face him, eyes ablaze. "Yes, Thomas! Provide me the answer!"

"Her Grace the Marquess of Pembroke was always an intelligent woman. Perhaps, through your infinite mercy, you shall see clear to pardoning Lady Boleyn..."

"PARDON--!"

Cromwell plowed through Henry's bellow. "...and offer her that which you offered your first wife to whom you were no husband—a life of decent obscurity."

Henry paused, one foot on the step to his bed. "Will this appease the people, Crum?"

"It must, Your Majesty. Send the Marquess to one of her estates with her daughter, Elizabeth Fitzroy, and marry Mistress Seymour with all the pomp and ceremony you wish. That way, you avoid that awful moniker of 'wife-killer,' and the Marquess will be so grateful for the return of her life and her daughter that she will show the world how to _gracefully _accede to her King's command."

"I must say, I had my misgivings of robbing Elizabeth of both mother and legitimacy," Henry mused, attempting to place a humane face on the matter.

"Aye. With the Marquess far from court, she can be discreetly watched to insure Your Majesty's safety, but without standing at Court, I believe her plotting days will be at an end."

Cromwell could _see_ the wheels turning in Henry's mind. "Very well, Crum. I trust no one with this but you. Go to the Marquess of Pembroke this very hour and provide her with the following offer..."

"...to remain the Marquess of Pembroke, as letters patent affirm, and maintain possession of the King's baseborn daughter, Her Lady Elizabeth's Grace, on the condition of remaining far from the court in all occasions in which her absence would not be remarked upon..." Anne read aloud in increasing disbelief. Her head shot up, dark eyes boring into Cromwell's. "Am I to take from this that I may keep my head, my income, AND my daughter, Secretary Cromwell?!"

"Never let it be said that I forget those who aided me to my position, my Lady," Cromwell responded, a bit of a smirk on his lean features. "I attempted to use my influence where it could be of the most use."

"Attempted? Tom, you have wrought miracles!" She clutched the paper to her chest, crumpling the fine vellum in her exuberance. "Of course I accept! Tell Henry—no, no, let me write it myself!"

She swirled toward the small table in the corner and wrote out in her best hand a letter to send back to Hen—His Majesty.

_Most sovereign Lord and Master...._

"...Most humbly do I accept your terms in order to secure my freedom. Hereafter and forever more do I proclaim my loyalty to you, Henricus Rex of England. Know that I shall be forever in your debt," Henry read, his relief almost palpable. For a time, he feared she would throw it back in his face. Anne was a sensible woman, however.

Pinned beneath the first sheet was a second, more personal note.

_Henry,_

_Steadfastly do I still maintain that I have never nor would never do anything to harm you, any part of you. As you are England, I must then reaffirm that I would never bring shame to you or our country. I shall raise Elizabeth as befits a King's natural daughter, and you are welcome in Hertfordshire at any time without equivocation. Although our "marriage" was unsuccessful, Henry, I would very much like to remain friends. _

_I look forward to meeting with you again. _

_Yours forever,_

_Anne Boleyn_

Henry was no fool. Anne was hedging her bets. He was also an opportunist, and Anne knew better than anyone that he would use her acquiescence to ensure his next marriage was rock solid.

"Tell Norfolk that I want to see him."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Howard sidled into the room three-quarters of an hour later, only his bloodshot eyes and slightly groggy demeanor betraying that it was not even dawn. Henry barely noticed the time.

"My dear Lord Norfolk..."

He was unheeding, however. The moment he had reached Henry's presence, he threw himself onto his stomach and, forehead to the cold stones, was babbling, "I knew not of the Whore's plans, my liege... that unnatural, unfeeling woman is no niece of mine..."

Henry's eyes were narrowed, blue chips of ice in his reddening face. "Ah. Well, then, I suppose my request for you to escort the Marquess of Pembroke and Her Lady Elizabeth's Grace to Herfordshire will be denied, then."

Those words penetrated the self-preserving fog around Norfolk's brain. "Your Majesty...?"

"The Marquess is to be pardoned and sent to Herfordshire, and I would like you to escort her to Hatfield to retrieve Lady Elizabeth and then to her estates to live in proper estate until such time as she can return to Court with minimum ceremony."

In a flash, Norfolk was on his knees, grasping Henry's hand and kissing the rings. "Your Majesty, you are too gracious..."

"Yes, yes, Norfolk, I know. I'd like you to be at the Tower with an entourage equal to the Marquess' rank in order to release her by midday."

As Norfolk bowed out, Henry turned to the window and watched the sun rise over his kingdom.

_**Next chapter: **_

"_**Mamma!" **_

_**Heedless of protocol, of Lady Bryan's grasping hand holding the three year old in place, Anne took four running steps forward and swept Elizabeth up into her arms. She tucked the fair head under her chin and held her tightly. **_

"_**Elizabeth, Elizabeth, my darling..." For all the gratitude she held for Henry for allowing her to keep her head, it was increased a thousand-fold to know that she would be able to watch her daughter grow up, even if it was with the taint of bastardy. **_


	2. Chapter 2

As Anne and Norfolk rode onward to Hatfield and Elizabeth, Anne let the rolling gait of her mount lull her into a moment of reflection. She knew, without a doubt, Henry himself would be on his own horse at this very moment, riding hell for leather for Wolf Hall and that sly Jane Seymour. She had worried about this ride-- had awoken this very morning sick to her stomach, as she had every morning for the past two weeks, but attributed it to the fact that she had so narrowly escaped the Calais executioner's sword. An apple or two had quickly set things to rights, and now her entire being was focused on reaching her daughter.

Elizabeth.

Though she would no longer be Princess, Elizabeth would be the daughter of a King and a Marquess. Her inheritance would be substantial, and even the taint of bastardy would not keep men from flocking to her side in hopes of binding themselves to the King. They would set up a home fitting to their station, she would teach her daughter the things she needed to know, and hopefully Henry would be so enamored of his new, colorless wife that he would leave them well enough alone.

She allowed a pang of regret to pierce her heart as she thought of Henry. She had spent more than half her life in pursuit of that glittering man, the one who made you the center of his world when he loved you, and the center of Hell itself when his love fell away. His love was heady, to be sure, but the pressure of delivering his most desired heir was more than Henry was worth. Still, the heart's bad habits were difficult to break, and Henry was her one bad habit.

No matter. She was a hard woman, but by no means stupid. She would learn from her mistakes and spend the rest of her life skirting the periphery of Henry's vision, secure in the fact that she was well out of his marital messes.

~*~

Henry dismounted from his horse and crossed to the door of Wolf Hall in three energetic bounds. He was free!—free as he had not been in almost twenty years. His exuberance left little time for pomp—he wrenched open the door himself to find his Jane standing there… sweetly, demurely, eyes cast down on her hands folded against her pale bodice. He took two steps forward, kneeling at her feet with all the bravado of a returning knight.

"My lady, I have come to ask you to be my wife and the Queen of England," he said, looking up the short distance to her face—his great height ensured that, even kneeling, he was not inconsiderable.

She reached out with one pale hand and cupped his ruddy cheek. "My lord, I wish nothing more in this world than to stand by your side as that wife."

He rose and took her with him, lifting her effortlessly into the air and spinning about on the spot. For a moment, lavender cloth swirled around him, almost suffocating him and his laughter. This wife would be different from the false ones before her: light where they were dark, sweet where they were sharp, obedient where they were stubborn. He placed her back on her feet and kissed her deeply. "My sweetheart, on this day England has gained a fair queen unknown to her since the days of my mother, Queen Elizabeth of York."

"And we hope she shall live up to your gentle mother's office, Your Majesty," Jane's brother Edward said slyly, easing out from the shadow of the stairs.

"When shall we be wed, Jane?" Henry asked eagerly, ignoring her brother. "But speak the day and I will make it so."

"Why make us wait any longer for what we both long for?" she said, finally raising her eyes to Henry. "As soon as can be done, of course."

"For a royal wedding, that means a fortnight, if I begin now. Let us say the last day of the month, or very close to it. I shall send seamstresses to you here at Wolf Hall… you should remain in your father's house until you can process in to London a Queen, my love."

He turned to Edward. "Begin the invitations to all of the peerage, and by Our Lady, you shall be Viscount Beauchamp before Midsummer's Night!"

The gleam of greed in Edward's eyes was unmistakable to anyone but Henry, who blustered at his future brother-in-law's speechlessness in the face of such generosity. "When I see thee again, it shall be at the altar, my love!" he whooped to Jane, and strode back to his horse to begin the mountains of orders involved in planning a royal wedding.

~*~

Anne dismounted from her mare at Hatfield, relieved to be out of the saddle at last. Her uncle Norfolk dismounted behind her, passing the reins of his stallion to a waiting groom and closing the short distance between them. "Anne, I know things seem bleak at the moment, but I have no doubt you can win him back."

She stared at him, aghast. "Win him back? My Lord, I think you've truly taken leave of your senses! Did not the loss of George, that horrific trial and the possibility of cold steel on your neck teach you anything?"

"I don't appreciate your tone, niece. You are no longer the Queen of England, through naught but your own folly. Don't presume to lecture me."

"I am no longer the Queen of England, and therefore of no practical use to you, uncle. Begin again with one of your other nieces—one of Edmund's brood, perhaps. Don't presume to lecture _me._"

"How shall you avoid him here? Hertfordshire is not so far away, and if he takes it into his head to see his daughter…"

She spun on her heel and strode toward the house, throwing back over her shoulder, "I shall take Elizabeth to Pembroke Castle and that shall be the end of it."

"To _Wales_? That God-forsaken place?"

"I cannot help but feel that_ England_ is the God-forsaken place. You're quite right, uncle… Hertfordshire is far too close to Henry and _Queen Jane _for my comfort. I shall ask King Henry for this boon, and I am sure he will grant it."

"After forcing you and your daughter to witness his marriage, I am sure," Norfolk said dourly, but followed his niece into the cool front hall of Hatfield.

"Mamma!"

Heedless of protocol, of Lady Bryan's grasping hand holding the three year old in place, Anne took four running steps forward and swept Elizabeth up into her arms. She tucked the fair head under her chin and held her tightly.

"Elizabeth, Elizabeth, my darling..." For all the gratitude she held for Henry for allowing her to keep her head, it was increased a thousand-fold to know that she would be able to watch her daughter grow up, even if it was with the taint of bastardy.

"Mamma, I missed you," the small girl said artlessly, her red head tucked firmly under Anne's chin.

For the first time in several years, Anne knew unequivocally that she was hearing a true statement, said without ulterior motive or design. The realization made her heart weep.


	3. Chapter 3

"What about the Marquess of Pembroke, Your Majesty?"

Henry, ignoring the pointed question of Cromwell, slapped the back of the tailor's head as he reported a waist measurement of 41 inches. "41 inches? Are you mad?! I'll be 41 inches when I'm dead and not a moment sooner! Make it 39."

"Your Majesty, with all due respect…"

Cromwell gave the tailor a dirty look that sent him scurrying. "Your Majesty, please. This is of extreme importance. What place shall we give the Marquess of Pembroke and her Lady Elizabeth's Grace?"

Henry stepped over to the table and picked up a book. "Where her dignity demands, of course."

"Of course." Cromwell only refrained from rolling his eyes with much effort. Henry had no idea that for most of his reign, they had been making up rules as they went. A former Queen taking part in the wedding procession of her ex-husband's new wife was unprecedented, and could create equally unforeseen problems that Cromwell himself would have to deal with, he was sure.

"Unless…. Do you think Jane will object to their presence?" Henry asked suddenly, sounding fearful.

"She is a peer, Your Majesty. I believe her presence and that of your natural daughter will go far in cementing this new marriage in the eyes of the people."

"Too true, Crum. Very well, place her where she would be if she were _not_ former Queen, but born Marquess, and Bess with her."

"As Your Majesty commands."

As Cromwell excused himself and made his way outside, the tailor was still standing there, gibbering slightly.

"You fool," Cromwell hissed, exasperated, "Think! Make the doublet fit him like a glove, and then tell him it was a 38" waist if you must to keep him happy!"

Even in wedding clothing, the King must be kept happy.

~*~

"Listen to me, my darling," Anne said, lifting her daughter onto her lap and holding her close. "We have been summoned by His Majesty the King to attend his wedding to Lady Jane Seymour." Elizabeth's dark eyes, so like her own, were fixed on hers unblinkingly. "We are honored by this invitation, Bess."

"Yes, Mamma," she nodded.

"You must be prepared, Elizabeth. You are no longer a Princess of England, as we have discussed. You must treat His Majesty your father with all the respect due to him, and not be free with his person if he greets us personally. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Three years old the girl may be, Anne reflected, but she was sharp as the edge of a blade.

"Good girl." Anne forced a smile. "Shall we go and pick the jewels we shall wear?"

"Oh, yes!"

The two rose from their garden bench and made their way back to their chambers. Anne's dark head was bent to Elizabeth's, but she was not listening. Instead, she was remembering the last time she had ever seen Henry, and her unoccupied hand clenched hard enough to draw blood. Her stomach roiled, but she resolutely held herself in check until she had passed Elizabeth off to her nurse and turned to vomit in the rosebushes.

"Your Grace?"

"A moment, dear Kate, a moment, I beg you." Stomach empty, Anne wiped her face and stood to see her lady-in-waiting staring at her with worried eyes. "I am fine."

"As you say, Your Grace."

"Come, Elizabeth may have put every ring on her fingers by now—we must catch her up." With that, Anne swept inside past Kate and took a care not to look back.

~*~

Henry stood with his hand supporting Jane's, watching with happy pride as his people cheered his new wife. His eyes swept the crowd and were arrested almost immediately by a head of flaming red hair. His daughter Elizabeth, gorgeous in dark blue velvet, was bouncing lightly on her toes and applauding the new queen. Immediately to her left, Anne stood, also applauding, although her dark eyes looked faintly tinged with sadness as she gazed right at him, her dark hair caught up in a glittering headdress.

Despite his new wife's white hand in his, his heart caught for a moment at the sight of his old family, and Anne gave him a flick of her hand along her skirt in a curtsey and a small, wistful smile.

Happy though he was with his new life, Henry was glad he had stayed his hand and allowed Anne to live.

Henry and Jane processed to their bedchamber, where they were ceremoniously put to bed and left in the dark. As he undressed his new bride, his mind wandered to the old one—the strands of cornsilk hair running through his fingers merely made him think of darker ones, and Jane's prim covering of herself as Henry attempted to reveal her called to mind Anne's passion for him.

Casting such thoughts aside, he did his duty by his wife—and a duty she made it, unsure as a virgin should be, but not warming to him at all over the course of the evening. In fact, the moment Henry was done and had rolled to his side, Jane was out of the bed, casting about for her nightgown.

"I bid you good evening, Your Majesty," she said softly, pulling her nightgown back on and returning to her side of the bed.

Shocked, Henry could only stare as Jane knelt on the floor beside the bed, crossed herself, and began to pray, her mouth moving silently.

Had he been dismissed from his own marriage bed?

~*~

"Your Grace?"

Anne groaned and rolled her head closer to the chamber pot, attempting to halt her heaving stomach.

"God's blood, Kate! You are driving me to distraction! What?!" she finally shouted, her purple ringed eyes glaring with ferocity.

Kate cast herself to her knees in front of Anne's bed, head almost to the floor. "Know, my Lady, that I speak only with the greatest love of you."

"Yes, yes," Anne sighed. "Call the doctor if you must, Kate."

"Has Your Grace ever considered…?"

"Considered what? Spit it out, girl! Have some spine!"

"Considered that you may be with child?" she finally sputtered in a rush, and touched her forehead to the floor.

Forgetting the poor gibbering Kate, Anne sat straight up in bed, mind racing. _Could_ it be so? She began to count backwards, attempting to remember her last bloods. She couldn't, but she had assumed that her miscarriage had affected her monthly bleeding. The last time she had been with Henry was another story—his touch was imprinted in her skin even now. It could be so…

_Why now, oh Lord? _She cried silently, forehead pressed to her knees. _Why, after so many tries, would you give us a child when we are not married? When we can__**not**__ be married?_

Anne's mind swiftly sorted through the possibilities. She could not keep this a secret—secrets implied duplicity, and her time in the Tower was not something she was anxious to repeat. She could not bring this directly to Henry, however – who knew how content he was with his new Ice Queen? Her father was wallowing in his mourning for George, and her uncle was combing his other nieces for a warm-blooded mistress for the King.

Cromwell!

A letter to Cromwell would ensure that Henry would hear of it in a fairly politic manner, and give her a layer of protection. She would sound out Cromwell first, and then see what her options were.

"Kate, fetch me my writing material! Oh, get up, you silly thing. Do as I say, and then send for a doctor—no chattering midwife, do you hear me? Go!"

~*~

… as I have known the touch of no man but His Majesty, Master Cromwell, I am reasonably sure that I am carrying the King's child once again. I write for your advice—would the King welcome another child, or is he content with Her Majesty the Queen? Either way, I did not want to be accused of keeping secrets from the Crown. My future lies, once again, in your inestimable hands.

I remain, your servant,

Anne, Marquess of Pembroke.

Cromwell sat back in his chair and stared at the parchment, his mind whirling with the possibilities. Henry had seemed less than happy with his new Queen over the past few weeks, but he was unsure how the King would respond to Anne's pregnancy. The one thing Henry hated more than anything else was to be told he was wrong, and this case seemed to be a perfect example. The pious and frigid Queen Jane seemed unlikely to bear the King a child, while the wife he had tossed aside only three months ago was enceinte.

It was as good as a play.

Deciding that the news was something Henry had to know, he rose to his feet and made his way to the King.

To be continued….

**Next Chapter….**

"**Pregnant?" Henry whispered. "You are certain?" **


	4. Chapter 4

As Cromwell made his way toward the King's chamber, he encountered the Queen's brother, Edward, standing guard before the door.

"Let me through," Cromwell stated calmly. "I have news for the King's Majesty."

Edward leaned against the door and smirked. "The Queen's news, I'm sure, is more welcome, Master Cromwell."

No doubt, Cromwell thought wryly. Then, aloud, "I am the King's minister, Viscount Beauchamp, and I must insist."

"Master Cromwell, the Queen is telling the King that he will be the father of a son come Twelfth Night." He leaned forward and sneered, "And when my nephew is Prince of Wales, you can be sure your head will not rest so comfortably on those smith-boy shoulders."

Cromwell never faltered. "Your faith in your influence is interesting, sir." Despite Edward's gloating, he would not respond further.

~*~

"Your Majesty, I believe I am with child."

He stared at her prim face, her folded hands. She did not seem either happy or sad—she was oddly expressionless, waiting for his reaction.

"Pregnant?" Henry whispered. "You are certain?"

"I have missed my courses, and the symptoms are there. Until the babe moves, we cannot be sure, but I have good reason to assume."

He pasted a smile on his face. "If it is so, my Jane, then I am the happiest man on Earth! Of course, we must keep this between ourselves until the quickening…"

"Oh, my family already knows," she said glibly.

"You told your family before your husband?" he demanded, rising to his feet in his ire.

"I—" For the first time, Henry saw an emotion cross her face: fear. Instead of giving her a way out of her explanation by yelling at her, he stood with his arms crossed and waited.

"I only wanted to get advice on how long to wait to be sure!" she finally cried, unable to take the silence anymore.

Henry leaned forward and grabbed the necklace around her neck, pulling her forward until she stumbled against his chest, staring up into his red face. "If you loved me, Jane, you would have been here moments after you had your suspicions, telling me that we hoped to have our child! You don't love me—did you _ever_?" He thrust her away from him and headed for the door, exploding out of it.

"Congratulations, Your—" Edward began, a smile on his face that faltered as he took in the scene.

"Crum, to me!" Henry barked, pushing back against Edward and heading for Cromwell's chambers.

He collapsed into a chair and stared into the fire. "Crum, was I wrong to take Jane as my wife?"

Cromwell stood for a moment, weighing the most politic response. "I cannot say you were wrong, Your Majesty… perhaps merely misled?"

"Yes! Misled! I thought she was being virtuous before our marriage, but she did not… does not… desire me! Of the faults Anne had, lack of desire was far from one of them!"

Cromwell cleared his throat. "Speaking of the Marquess of Pembroke, Your Majesty, I have had a letter from her just today. I would like to show it to you."

He handed the expensive parchment to Henry and backed away a respectful distance, watching his expressions to mark his progress through the letter. When Henry swore an oath and leapt to his feet, it took all of Cromwell's considerable willpower to stand his ground.

"Damn her!"

He kicked a chair over in his anger, sending it skittering across the room on its unsteady legs to tip over next to the fireplace.

"How could she do this to me?!"

"Your Majesty, I give my rooms to you freely—take all the time you need. Call for me when you wish me to respond." With that, Cromwell left the room, closing the room fast behind him.

From famine to feast! Two women were pregnant with Henry's children—he had no doubt Anne's was his, although plenty of people had tried to convince him of her infidelity.

Now what?

~*~

"A marriage of good faith?" Henry repeated dubiously, tapping on Cromwell's desk with a ring from his finger.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"I seem to remember Wolsey attempting to get me to declare that situation with the Dowager Princess of Wales."

"Yes, Your Majesty, but at that time it would have required the blessing of the Bishop of Rome. Since you are Supreme Head of the English church, it is a way to hedge your bets. In this way, the Lady Elizabeth and the Marquess' new child would be legitimized, as would the child of the Queen. It is especially appropriate in this case, since the first investigation into the Marquess' precontract with Percy of Northumberland yielded the result that the precontract was nonexistent. At the time of the conception of the children, you and Her Grace had no reason to suspect that your marriage was not a true one."

"Thus doubling my chances for a boy," Henry mused, his face pensive. Cromwell held his breath. Anne being back in Henry's good graces could only improve Cromwell's position, and lessen the Seymours.

"Write up a draft of a decree for Parliament, Crum," Henry said finally. "I am off to see the Lady Elizabeth. I will return when I return."

"Shall I tell the Queen, Your Majesty?"

"Do as you will. She is of no concern to me at the moment."

~*~

"Where is the King?" Edward Seymour demanded of a sobbing Jane, attempting to get a straight word out of her.

"To see…Anne…" she hiccoughed, eyes streaming. Without warning, Edward's hand flashed out and slapped her across the face, startling her out of her tears.

"You IDIOT. You are his rightful wife and pregnant with his babe, and yet you cannot keep him from the _putain noir_ and her changeling?"

"He does not listen to me, Edward! I have prayed and done as I did before…"

"A wife and a lover are two different things, you stupid whore! You must change with him, keep him interested! If he wanted a pious wife, he would have kept Katherine of Aragon." Edward turned on his heel. "I am disgusted with your entire sex. You had better include in your prayers a plea for Henry to return to you, or there will be hell to pay." He pointed at her stomach. "That better be a boy!"

~*~

As Henry's horse galloped into the yard of Anne's home, he immediately saw his daughter with a lady-in waiting out in the side yard, plucking roses and studiously avoiding the thorns.

At the sound of the horse, the pair looked up. The lady-in-waiting frowned, attempting to puzzle out the new arrival, but Elizabeth had no doubts. "PAPA!" she shouted, and began to run full tilt toward him as he swung down from the saddle. She ran so fast that her slim legs were completely entangled in the gown she wore and she fell to her knees, but was back on her feet in a flash to continue her sprint. Henry's heart swelled at the sight of her slim, well-formed body and sprightly movement. He and Anne were good stock—the proof was mere paces from him and closing in rapidly.

Suddenly, a few feet from him, Elizabeth stopped dead. Henry frowned, confused, and was about to open his arms to her when she dropped to her knees again, deliberately this time.

"You honor us, Your Majesty," her young voice piped as she studied his boots.

"Oh, Bess," he said softly, reaching down and rising her up. "Papa. Always Papa to you."

The young girl's eyes filled with tears and her lower lip trembled. She threw herself at his waist, hugging him to her. Henry looked over his daughter's head to see Anne standing in the doorway, her own eyes full of tears.

"Elizabeth," Anne began, but Henry put his hand up and silenced her. He bent and picked Elizabeth up, putting her to his hip and making his way back to his former wife.

"My lady."

"Your Majesty… you are always welcome here."

"Thank you. Bess, would you like to show me your room?" he asked the quiet girl, who nodded frantically, her tears dried.

"Oh yes! I have a tutor, Papa, one of my own! I'm learning French!"

"Ah, _ma petite fille cultivée_!" he smiled. He glanced over at Anne. "And when we're done, my own sweetheart, your mother and I must talk alone."

"Yes, we must," Anne answered, and her eyes were warm.


End file.
